


Win All the Games (And Maybe a Heart or Two)

by grydo2life



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Carnival Games, Clint is a sweetheart, Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grydo2life/pseuds/grydo2life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Clint is banned from carnival games and Phil is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win All the Games (And Maybe a Heart or Two)

**Author's Note:**

> Another day, another fill for the cc-feelsmeme. For this [prompt](http://cc-feelsmeme.livejournal.com/1635.html?thread=611#t611). I'm on a bit of a roll!
> 
> Enjoy!

Clint is pouting. Phil is trying very hard not to look amused.

“It serves you right.” He tells Clint with absolutely no sympathy. “You know better than to show off like that.”

Clint’s pout twists into something a little bit more like a glare as he swivels his head to look at Phil. “You are the worst boyfriend _ever_ , you know that?”

Phil, for his part, just smiles at him serenely and reaches out to take his hand. Clint doesn’t pull away, nor does he resist when their fingers intertwine, so the agent considers himself more or less safe. They keep walking, taking their time as they weave through rows of games and booths, and when Clint tugs on his hand and demands cotton candy, Phil lets him because he’s not _actually_ the worst boyfriend ever. 

In the background, peoples can be heard shrieking and laughing. Clint has already been on several of the rides (twice for a few, in fact), but now they’re just wandering, taking advantage of an uninterrupted afternoon to do something vaguely resembling normal.

“They could have at least let me keep the damn toy,” the archer grunts as he stuffs a few tuffs of blue fluff into his mouth. “I won it fair and square.”

“Not according to them,” Phil points out.

“’It’s impossible to win every game’,” Clint mutters in a high voice, mocking the supervisor that had, after the last game, confronted the archer with security flanking him. The resulting conversation had ended with Clint being banned from all the games on site – their tickets now have very large Xs drawn through a portion of them. “Asshole. Can’t believe he accused me of cheating.”

“In his defense,” Phil offers, entirely unhelpful, “most of these games are rigged. If it had been anyone else, he’d probably have been right.” 

Clint snorts but doesn’t respond. They pause to watch a couple of teenagers get caricatures done. Clint polishes off the cotton candy quickly, drops the trash in a nearby can, and licks his fingers clean.

“I still don’t understand why you felt the need to go through and beat every single game,” Phil admits, and there’s laughter in his voice that most people would have missed. Clint can tell, though, and it always makes a certain warmth spread through him, knowing that it’s for him. He pauses, and then adds, in a tone that, for him, could be called teasing, “Trying to impress me?” 

Clint laughs. “No,” he says, shrugging. “It’s just… it’s a carnival date. That’s what you’re supposed to _do_ on carnival dates, isn’t it? Win prizes for…” he waves at Phil and smiles sheepishly. “Yeah.”

It’s sweet. Phil will deny it if asked, but it sometimes surprises him, just how thoughtful the archer can be. Clint makes it a point to appear careless with the things he does, because he doesn’t like the attention; Phil has known him long enough to know how deliberate he really is.

Leaning over, the agent steals a quick kiss. It’s brief, soft, and utterly chaste, and when they pull away, Clint smiles in a shy sort of way that Phil is proud to admit only he ever gets to see. “While I appreciate the sentiment,” he says lightly after a moment, “what in the world did you think I would do with all those stuffed animals?”

Clint grins. “Didn’t really think about it.” He laughs when Phil rolls his eyes, unsurprised. “It was kind of cool that you gave them away to those kids, though.”

Any blush Phil gives is strictly internal. Clint sees it anyway. “Come on,” he says, slinging an arm around Phil’s shoulders and tugging him along. “We’ve still got at least an hour before someone calls you up in a panic and ruins it. Let’s enjoy it.” A beat. “Hey, we could try the Tunnel of Love.”

“I _do_ still have my service weapon on me, Barton.”

“Duly noted, sir.”


End file.
